Ruth Langan Highlanders Bundle

by Ruth Langan

  “I hope you do not mind. I thought perhaps Richard could see more clearly with the windows free of clutter. He spends so much time there looking at the world outside these walls.”

  “I am most grateful, my lady.”

  Morgan studied the gleaming hallway floors as they made their way to the refectory. Inside, the darkened walls had been scrubbed until they shone. The scarred wooden tables were freshly polished. The dark draperies had been removed, allowing sunlight to play over the spotless marble floors. The chimneys had been swept, allowing the smoke to escape instead of filling the room. Everywhere he looked, it was as if Greystone Abbey had awakened from a deep slumber. The servants whispered about the lady who worked alongside them, polishing everything until it gleamed. She would be considered a harsh taskmaster, except for the fact that she did not order anything done that she would not do herself.

  “Did you oversee your home in Scotland with such care, my lady?”

  “Aye.” She felt a fleeting pang at the thought of her home. “My sisters, alas, detested woman’s work, preferring to practice the use of weapons with our father’s men.”

  “I seem to recall that you showed no lack of skill with a knife, my lady.” He touched a hand to the scar at his chest, causing Brenna to blush.

  “Aye. And given a sword I could best many of your soldiers, my lord. ’Twas as much a part of our training as baking bread or sewing a fine seam.”

  “Beware, brother. A potent combination.” Richard, seated in his chair at the table, looked up at their arrival. “A woman who can cook, sew and wield a sword. Your chances for betrothal grow more numerous with each passing day, my lady.”

  Brenna felt the heat on her cheeks and ducked her head, missing the scowl on Morgan’s face. But it was not lost on his brother. So. Morgan was not as eager for the lady to be taken off his hands as he claimed. Richard decided to pay a little more attention to Morgan and Brenna while they supped. He enjoyed nothing as much as a chance to tweak his obstinate brother’s nose.

  When Morgan’s men were seated the servants entered the dining hall bearing steaming trays of venison, pheasant and partridge, as well as baskets of bread warm from the ovens.

  Richard and Morgan filled their plates, then began to eat in their usual lusty manner. Brenna picked at her food and watched as the men devoured everything and signaled to the servants for more.

  “What have you done to this venison?” Morgan asked the housekeeper.

  “I prepared it a new way, my lord. Do you disapprove?”

  “Nay. It is the best you’ve ever made, Mistress Leems.”

  The housekeeper cast a shy glance at Brenna. “The Lady Brenna told me how her family prepared venison in Scotland. I thought I would try it.”

  Morgan glanced at the woman beside him, then continued eating.

  “Even the bread tastes different. Better,” Richard added, taking a mouthful.

  “The Lady Brenna showed the cooks how to make scones and clotted cream.”

  Richard reached for several more before dismissing the servant.

  “What is this?” Richard asked.

  “Brandied pudding.” Mistress Leems watched as he savored the new treat. “Do you like it, my lord?”

  “Very tasty.” When he had eaten every bite, he called the servant over for more. “Why have you never made this before, Mistress Leems?”

  The housekeeper stifled a smile. “I had not the recipe, my lord, until the Lady Brenna told me about it.”

  “You had a hand in this as well, lass?” Richard turned to Brenna.

  “Aye. ’Twas my father’s favorite.”

  “I can see why.” Richard filled his plate, then watched as Morgan helped himself to more.

  “Lass,” Richard said between bites, “is there anything you cannot do well?”

  She could not contain the smile that split her lips and touched her eyes. “I am pleased that you enjoyed your meal, Richard.”

  “What about you, Morgan?” Richard stared across the table at his brother. “You seem to have put away an inordinate amount of food.”

  “Aye.” Morgan turned to the woman beside him. “I do not remember when I have enjoyed a meal more.”

  A warm glow enveloped Brenna as she left the refectory. Beside her Morgan pushed his brother’s chair. She could not fathom why she had begun to care what this Englishman thought. But if she would be honest with herself, she had to admit that she’d been holding her breath throughout the meal in hopes that he would not be angry at the changes she had suggested.

  Morgan paused outside the door to the library. “Do you wish to retire to your room?”

  “I am not at all weary, my lord.”

  “Then perhaps you will stay with us a while.”

  “Thank you.” She followed them inside the cheery, book-filled room.

  A servant entered bearing a tray containing a decanter and goblets.

  Brenna paused beside a chess set and ran her fingers along the ornately carved pieces.

  “Do you play, my lady?”

  “My father was an avid player. It was a rare treat when one of my sisters or I managed to beat his strategy.”

  “Then I challenge you,” Richard said.

  With a laugh Brenna took a seat across from him and made the first move. Within minutes they were caught up in the game.

  Across the room Morgan poured himself a goblet of wine and studied the woman whose dark hair glowed in the light of the fire. She frowned over the chess piece in her hand, then made her move. Richard burst into gales of laughter at her mistake and snatched up her piece. After a moment’s hesitation, she joined him in laughter until the two of them were wiping tears of laughter from their eyes.

  “You take advantage of the fact that I have not played this game in many years.”

  “It is like holding a sword, lass. You never forget.”

  “Aye. It will come back to me. And when it does, I will best you.”

  “Of that I have no doubt. Your move, lass.”

  Brenna bent over the board and studied the pieces, then made another move. This time Richard’s brow arched as he shot her a look of admiration.

  “I see that it is all coming back to you, lass.”

  “Aye.” She watched as he made his move, then countered.

  After only four more moves, Richard realized that they were hopelessly deadlocked. With a little bow he grinned. “Are you certain you have not played this game in years, lass?”

  “Well, I may have played a few times with my sisters.”

  “Ah. And you simply forgot to mention that fact.”

  She shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I may have forgotten.”

  Richard threw back his head and roared. “You are devious, lass. Like a soldier on a battlefield. You deliberately caused me to relax my guard so you could learn my strategy.”

  She smiled at him across the table. “Aye, but no matter. ’Tis only a game.”

  “Nay. For a soldier who can no longer go to battle, it is more than a game. It is a challenge of skill. To beat me, you must think like a soldier.”

  “Aye.” She studied the man across the chessboard. “When next I challenge you, Richard, I will beat you.”

  “I look forward to our duel, lass.” He looked up at his brother, who stood beside the fireplace, his hand resting on the mantel. “Bring me a goblet, Morgan, and let me celebrate the fact that I have finally found someone who will force me to work at this game. Unlike,” he added with a wink to Brenna, “most of those who challenge me in this place.”

  With a smile Morgan filled two goblets and handed them to Richard and Brenna. It pleased him to see his brother so animated. How ironic that it should be this reluctant Scotswoman who should bring such changes to Greystone Abbey and its inhabitants.

  As Morgan handed his brother a goblet he grinned. “You only beat me because I allow it.”

  “You have not beaten me at chess in over a year. I only challenge you to keep my hand in the game.”
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  As Morgan filled his goblet, Brenna studied the flames of the fire. Except for the hiss and snap of the logs, there was no sound to break the stillness.

  “There is such peace here,” Brenna said to Richard. “I can understand why you wanted to be here.”

  “It was not peace I sought. ’Twas sanctuary from the cruel stares, the helplessness I felt.”

  She heard the pain in his words and grew silent. But with effort, Richard pulled himself out of his dark thoughts. “Is there such a place in your land, lass?”

  She shook her head. “If only there could be such peace for my people. It is my most fervent wish for them. Alas, my poor land has been besieged for generations. There is no safe refuge for my clan.”

  “If you accede to Elizabeth’s wishes, there can be peace between our people.” Morgan’s tone was abrupt. “Is marriage to an Englishman such a terrible price to pay?”

  Brenna went very still. Hadn’t the same question been troubling her for days now? Yet, if the thought of sacrificing herself was repugnant, the thought of sacrificing her sister was too painful to contemplate.

  “I believe I could endure anything for the sake of my people. If your queen would agree that my marriage would seal a bond of peace, I would accede to her wishes. But I will not allow Megan to be part of the grand design.”

  “Megan?” Richard was suddenly alert.

  “My younger sister. She escaped into the Highlands before I was captured.”

  Richard looked impressed. “She eluded your men, Morgan?”

  “Aye. At her sister’s coaching she made it to the safety of the forest, where she was swallowed up. But there was no need to go after her. The Lady Brenna was our prize.”

  Prize indeed. Richard stared at the woman who sipped her wine, then glanced at his brother, who watched her through narrowed eyes. He finished his wine and stifled a yawn.

  “I would retire now, Morgan.”

  “So soon?”

  “The Lady Brenna had me in the garden for hours today, supervising the planting of trees.”

  Morgan was suddenly alert. “You planted trees, my lady?”

  Brenna flushed, knowing that she had overstepped her bounds. “Forgive me, my lord. But several of the trees were beyond saving. And I thought…” Her cheeks grew several shades darker. “I had no right.”

  “If Richard approved of them, you had every right.” He turned to his brother. “Where are the trees planted?”

  “Near our old fountain. They shade our mother’s old rose garden.”

  Morgan felt both a flush of pleasure and a trace of annoyance. “I will see these trees on the morrow.”

  Stepping behind his brother’s chair, he began to push it toward the doorway. A waiting servant took the chair when they had bid good-night.

  “Come, my lady,” Morgan said abruptly. “I will see you to your room.”

  As they climbed the stairs Morgan said casually, “I have invited the queen to Greystone Abbey for a hunt. She will be bringing Madeline and Charles along. I thought you might like to see them.”

  Brenna’s smile was quick. “Aye, my lord.”

  “Then I shall invite them to stay on for several days if you would like.”

  “Thank you.” At the door to her room Brenna paused. “When will they be here?”

  “As quickly as it can be arranged.”

  Brenna felt her spirits soar. She would not feel nearly so alone with Madeline here.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  He startled her by touching a hand to her cheek. “If I had but known that Madeline’s visit would bring such a bloom to your cheeks, I would have invited her here days ago.”

  The rush of heat was so swift she felt suddenly light-headed. For long minutes he stared down into her eyes, and she sensed that he was going to kiss her.

  For a moment her heart forgot to beat. She waited, anticipating the touch of his mouth to hers.

  Morgan paused, toying with the idea of brushing her lips with his. A warning bell sounded in his mind. It was extremely dangerous to kiss this woman. Each time, he’d had to walk through fire to resist taking her.

  He studied the soft, seductive lips, the invitation in her eyes, and stepped back, breaking contact. It was difficult enough to sleep, knowing the woman slept but a room away. If he were to kiss her, sleep would elude him for the entire night.

  “Sleep well, my lady.”

  He dropped his hand and strode quickly away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Why is the deed not yet done?”

  In the distance the misty turrets of Richmond Palace could be seen. Two shadowy figures stood in the woods just before sunrise, speaking with muted voices.

  “I have tried.”

  “Aye. And failed.”

  “The queen is never alone. Since Morgan Grey’s return to England, he is with her every day. She refuses to go anywhere without that savage at her side.”

  “Then eliminate him.” The tone was tense, angry. “I do not pay you for excuses. The deed must be done soon, else I will lose favor with those who would obtain the throne. If you cannot see to it, I will find someone else willing to take the risk.”

  “You know it is not the risk I fear. I have already risked much. But we must be cautious and choose a time and place where there will be no witnesses to the deed.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “Aye.” The man gave a chilling smile. “The queen plans to leave for Greystone Abbey, Morgan Grey’s manor house near Richmond. It is very secluded.”

  The other man rubbed his hands together. “The perfect time and place for an—accident. But,” he asked with a sudden frown, “how do you know you will be included in the queen’s plans?”

  “Leave that to me.”

  “Beware. Our future, and the future of all England, depends upon this. You must be willing to kill anyone who gets in the way of our plan.”

  “I am aware of the urgency, old friend. Do not fear. And as for the killing…” The man’s laugh sent a ripple of terror along his companion’s spine. “I look forward to it.”

  The two men clasped hands before going their separate ways. Within minutes the mists had swallowed them up, leaving no trace of their meeting.

  As the first rays of sunlight slanted through the windows, Brenna bounded from her bed, eager for the day.

  How sweet the anticipation. Madeline d’Arbeville would accompany the queen this day. Her first friend in England. How she needed a friend to keep her from the homesickness that gnawed at her soul.

  As Rosamunde helped her dress, she chided her mistress. “I have never seen you so animated, my lady.”

  “Aye. I am eager to see the Duchess of Eton once more. She was most kind to me at Richmond.”

  Rosamunde finished the last button on Brenna’s gown, then lifted the brush to her hair. When she was finished she stepped back to survey the results.

  “You look lovely, my lady.”

  “Thanks to you.” Brenna lifted her skirts and turned, nearly colliding with Morgan, who was just entering her room.

  Her startled eyes looked up into his as he brought his hands to her shoulders to steady her.

  “I did not hear you, my lord.” Why did her heart thunder so at his touch?

  “Where are you off to in such a wild rush?”

  “I must see to the guest rooms before Madeline arrives.”

  There was a note of amusement in his voice. “That is why we have servants, my lady.”

  “But I want everything to be perfect for our guests.”

  Our guests. Though Brenna seemed unaware of what she had said, Morgan felt oddly pleased by the term.

  “Do you have time to break your fast, my lady? Or must you begin your work immediately?”

  She flushed, realizing that she was the object of his teasing laughter. “I suppose I can spare a few minutes to eat, my lord.”

  “Mistress Leems promised me a fine meal.” He offered his arm and felt the slight pressure
of her hand. It was a most pleasant feeling that radiated from her touch. Pleasant but dangerous. Her skirts whispered as she moved along beside him. Soft. Seductive. He must remember that beneath the softness was a woman who would stop at nothing to return to her home. “Is this to be another of your recipes?”

  Brenna glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Would that please you?”

  He shrugged, unwilling to admit his feelings. “A soldier learns to eat anything, so long as it fills his stomach.”

  She couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled up within her. “Then I will ask Mistress Leems to cook you some of her gruel, my lord. That should fill your stomach and remind you of the battles you are missing.”

  A hint of laughter warmed his voice. “Bite your tongue before she hears you.”

  “Hears what?” Richard looked up from his place at the table as they entered.

  “Your brother cares not for my fancy food. He cares only to satisfy his hunger.”

  “Then it is as I thought,” Richard said with a frown. “Too many battles have left you daft.” He watched as Morgan sat down beside Brenna. It was obvious that his brother was taking great pains not to touch her as he took his seat. But why? Could it be that Morgan was afraid to touch this little creature? Afraid of the feelings she stirred in him? The very thought made Richard stifle a laugh.

  “A good meal is like a beautiful woman,” he said with a satisfied smile. “Both are meant to be savored, to satisfy not only the hunger of the body, but of the soul as well.”

  Morgan felt a tremor as Richard’s words touched a chord deep inside him. There had been many women in his life. And yet none had ever satisfied the hunger in his soul.

  Choosing to ignore the knowing look on Richard’s face, Morgan bellowed, “You may begin serving, Mistress Leems.”

  “Aye, my lord.” The housekeeper directed the servants, who carried in trays of warm biscuits and steaming meats, as well as breads dripping with honey and fruit conserves.

  The men at the tables fell silent as they relished their meal. When the others had finished, Morgan and Richard continued to eat until at last, replete, they sat back.